Pitch Wars 2016: I'm doing this thing so here's a little about me (and my book)
I'm mia. I write YA things. Although I've been around for a long time this is the first time I'm taking part in Pitch Wars 2016 (#pitchwars). Normally I don't have anything quite ready but this time around I'm as ready as I'll ever be. This is my all-time favourite gif:
I'm not very good at writing about me but what I am surprisingly great at is pro con lists. So, welcome to a pro con list that just so happens to be about me.
- I'm an expert emoji extraordinaire. I once used only emojis to review a book. It was great.
- In my spare time I take a lot of pictures. You can see these on my instagram.
- I also speak Chinese; I started learning for another WIP and then, because I liked it, I carried on.
- Favourite authors include Garth Nix, Nicole Krauss, Patrick Ness, Ray Bradbury and many others besides.
- I love the colour orange because of this and I love Autumn. I love Autumn for other reasons -- for the chill in the air and the boundaries it represents -- but, ngl, I also love the colours.
- I'm willing to work hard on whatever I set my mind to. [/su_column]
- I'm clumsy. This makes for great life lessons but overall it's not great
- I cannot ice skate, this renders all dreams RE champion figure ice skating moot.
- I'm prone to romanticising things then posting them on my blog under the guise of life lessons.
- I don't sleep a lot. Expect emails at odd hours of the day.
- I'm rly rly rly bad at about me's.
I'm submitting a YA fantasy set in a world split into areas based on how people interact with the earth. A young girl in this world wakes up one day to find her brother has been kidnapped.
[su_animate type="slideInLeft" delay="0.25"][su_service title="a deaf main character" icon="icon: check" icon_color="#f9bc55"] Don’t get lost, ice against fire as I sign the words between us, feeling sleep rushing towards me. Am I speaking to Trip or to myself? I don't know. I barely recognise the word promise as he signs it against my palm. Eyelids heavy with exhaustion, I am tumbling into a dream. Lips against my forehead. A slow and lingering kiss. I wonder if it burns him just as much as it sets me ablaze.
[su_animate type="slideInLeft" delay="0.5"][su_service title="a missing older brother" icon="icon: check" icon_color="#f9bc55"]The kitchen is empty. I see papers lightly smoking on the table through the keyhole before I enter but no Biscuit. There's ash in the fireplace, and his smokes are out on by the side of the sink, so he can't be far away. Sometimes I think that packet is connected directly to the lowest rib on his ribcage by some invisible string. [/su_service][/su_animate]
[su_animate type="slideInLeft" delay="0.75"][su_service title="a dragon" icon="icon: check" icon_color="#f9bc55"] It will try to burn you, he said. He began brushing soot across my cheek bones, his fingertips tracing the patterns of our ancestors before he he continued, But you must remember we were born in fire, and so it cannot touch you[/su_service][/su_animate]
[su_animate type="slideInLeft" delay="1"][su_service title="forbidden love" icon="icon: check" icon_color="#f9bc55"] "What are you doing with him?" Biscuit's jug slams against the table, rocking plates and papers and me. I shoot him a glare. What? I say, only with my hands. Slowly. My heart is drumming against my rib-cage. I know what. I know exactly what. The feel of Trip's skin against mine shivers through my mind. I just don't know why.
[su_animate type="slideInLeft" delay="1.25"][su_service title="a smattering of darkness" icon="icon: check" icon_color="#f9bc55"] In all the time I've known Vex, this is perhaps the closest we've ever come to talking about his father. About summer nights when I would walk back from the well and pass his doorstep. We'd catch each other's eye as he leant his forehead against the cooling brickwork of the cottage. I'd never fail to notice the gashes covering his arms. About long winter nights, when I would struggle up from the forges and see his figure crouched in the brush at the edge of the forest. I've seen enough pain in my life to know the unmistakable tremble of a person crying. [/su_service][/su_animate]
[su_animate type="slideInLeft" delay="1.4"][su_service title="other terribly exciting things" icon="icon: check" icon_color="#f9bc55"]In the light of the small fire his scars somehow seem more prominent, ridges on his skin as he catches my gaze. “You forgot your bag,” Trip says, swaying slightly before collapsing into the dirt face first.
I'm willing and ready to change things and consider other paths for the story because I love altering things and seeing how characters react. Most of all I love the characters. I'm ready to work hard too -- when I get going there's really no stopping me. Friends, pets, family, and twitter followers can attest (I think).